The sirens wail outside my house. I sit lifelessly on the couch looking almost as dead as my mother, who is being carried away by two strange uniformed men on a stretcher. I remember my frightened 911 call, the only telephone number my mother allowed me to know. It replays over and over in my head nonstop. Please help! My mother's just collapsed and I don't know what to do. I think her heart has stopped beating and I can't feel any heat on her upper lip. I don't think she's breathing. Please send help! I'm so clueless!
The rest of that night passes in a blur, and, somehow, I end up at my mother's best friend's house, sharing her room with her whiny daughter, the only person my age I know. Actually, she's one of the four people I know: My mom, her best friend, her daughter, and my doctor. Other than that, I've been completely blocked off from the outside world for as long as I can clearly remember. I still have a few memories from the Glory Days, playing with other kids, drawing with sidewalk chalk on the ground, running excitedly to the ice cream truck, but they're all just single moments, frozen in time, not connected to any other specific memories. Tomorrow, I'll be going to high school. Tomorrow I'll be leaving the house and stepping out into the outside world, and I'm scared to death.
Annabelle, the obnoxious girl who's room I'm staying in, begins to sing whatever Taylor Swift song is popular right now while brushing her hair. I roll my eyes, annoyed. My mom never let me listen to mainstream music, so I guess I've been poisoned against it. Also, she's an awful singer, completely off key. I hope that not everyone will be like her on my first day at school, but I have to remind myself to be nice because for now, she's the only friend I've got. Grimacing, I pry open her door and walk towards the bathroom to change into pajamas.
Once I'm back in Annabelle's room, I scrutinizingly study my schedule again, trying desperately to commit it to memory at the last second. Normally, memorizing something would be simple, but I've had all of twenty minutes to look at this sheet of paper with incredibly small type and classes I've never even heard of, like computer apps, and Home Economics. I also have AP Literature, AP Biology, drama, Trigonometry, gym, and AP World History. It's pretty unlucky that I just so happen to start high school in my senior year, because I only have one year to have a proper high school experience, but on the bright side, my mom and I have already given college serious consideration. I'm going to go to Community College and live at home so I can be close to her while I'm young and impressionable. I'm not exactly sure if that's a solid plan anymore, though.
After fifteen minutes of studying my schedule, I give up, roll over on my air mattress, and pull my blanket over my head, my phone in my hand. I desperately need to drown out Annabelle's singing. She's moved onto some annoying song by some preppy boy band I don't know the name of and I'm sure that my ears will start to bleed if I don't do something soon.
I plug in my earbuds and fall asleep to the only music my mom let me listen to until I was thirteen, besides dorky lullabies and Kids Bop: show tunes. I'm asleep before Elphaba hits the high note during Defying Gravity, but the terrifying collapse of my mom haunts my dreams. One question pops up over and over again, never leaving me at peace. What happens next?
YOU ARE READING
Firsts
General FictionSkylar Lark hasn't been in the outside world for thirteen years. Her paranoid mother has kept her locked inside her house since she was four years old. There have been no trips to the grocery store, no amusement parks, no outside contact with anyone...
